


Never Again

by Anonymous_Introvert78



Category: GOT7
Genre: Because it's messed up, But no description, Choi Youngjae-centric, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hurt Choi Youngjae, Hurt Park Jinyoung, Love Wins, Oh, Physical Abuse, Please Be careful, Shit, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Verbal Abuse, and explicit language, from yours truly, jesus take the wheel, let's end abuse, massive trigger warning, mentions of sexual abuse, people are people, triggering language, what have I done?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-06-30 07:27:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 23
Words: 13,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15747090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_Introvert78/pseuds/Anonymous_Introvert78
Summary: It's bad when they don't treat you right. But it's tragic that you continue to allow it. Let today be the day you love yourself enough to say "never again".- Steve Maraboli





	1. There

**Author's Note:**

> Abuse: 1-800-799-7233 (USA)  
> 08-088-088-088 (UK)

             “Beautiful bed! Come to Daddy!” was the first thing Yugyeom yelled as Jaebum let them into the dorm. The maknae flung himself into his room and there was the sound of an exhausted body hitting a groaning bed followed by a very audible sigh of pleasure.

“Oh, God. Somebody please stop him from doing that.”

Jinyoung laughed at the disgusted look on Youngjae’s face and pushed his dongsaeng towards the far door with the order to go straight to sleep. Another moan came from Yugyeom’s room just as Youngjae and Mark were disappearing into theirs.

“Somebody give me a sledgehammer,” Jackson muttered as he hammered on the youngest member’s door. “If you don’t go to sleep right now, I am going to bash your brains out!”

“Assault and battery!” came the affronted retort but the increasingly inappropriate noises ceased. With a satisfied smirk, Jackson drifted off to bed, blowing his leader a kiss as he went and receiving the middle finger in return.

“And now he’ll start snoring.” Jaebum flopped down on the couch with a heavy thud and swiped his laptop from the coffee table. “Bambam should be thankful the choreographer wanted his help. By the time he gets back, he’ll be so exhausted that even Yugyeom grunting like a pig won’t keep him up.”

“Aren’t you turning in?” Jinyoung asked, nodding to the laptop with his arms folded in motherly disapproval. “It’s almost two in the morning.”

“Nah, I’ve got some lyrics floating around in my head that I want to get down before I forget.”

“Okay, but need I remind you of the last time you said that when you ended up staying awake the entire night? I had to spend the whole of the following day keeping the kids away from you for fear that you might throw one of them out a window.”

“Fuck off.”

Letting out a snort of mirth, Jinyoung cuffed his hyung over the head and left him to his brooding.

Jaebum flipped open the laptop, an intrigued eyebrow rising as he spotted the unread email at the top of his inbox. He frowned at the choreographer’s name on the address and clicked. That frown deepened the further he read.

 

_JB,_

_I sincerely apologise for dropping this bombshell on you but I have a family emergency and need to fly back to Gwangju first thing tomorrow morning. I have arranged for another choreographer to come and take my place but I’m afraid I cannot give you the date of my return._

_I have worked with this man for almost a year now and he was the best replacement I could find at such short notice. His name is Shin Soowon and he’s arriving on Tuesday. I’ve briefed Bambam on all of the dances so he can offer assistance when Mr Shin arrives._

_Again, my deepest apologies and I trust you will keep the other members in check in my absence._

_Sincerely,_

_Jeon Hyungi_

Now understanding why Bambam had been kept behind, Jaebum gave a soft hiss of frustration that was instantly marred by guilt. He hastened to type out a reply, wishing his choreographer’s family well and telling him that it really was no problem.

It wasn’t until after he’d hit send that he realised the lyrics he’d been desperately trying to cling onto had evaporated.

Letting out another sigh, this one more resigned than irritated, he took out his phone and texted Bambam to come home safely - and not to flirt with the cab driver again - before dragging himself to his room where the warm invitation of sleep awaited him.


	2. Are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abuse:  
> 1-800-799-7233 (USA)  
> 08-088-088-088 (UK)

 

      When Tuesday arrived, Youngjae sat on the floor of the dance studio, legs splayed out in front of him, watching Jackson and Bambam rolling around on the floor, trying to put each other in a headlock. Both Jaebum and Jinyoung were perched on the couch, chewing on protein bars, narrowed eyes deciding whether or not to intervene.

When Mark and Yugyeom concluded that the only way they could help was crushing the other two in a doggy pile that consisted of grunts, curse words and a cluster of limbs, Jaebum finally got up and pried them apart with the air of an exhausted parent seriously regretting his life choices.

“It would be extraordinarily helpful if no one had any broken bones before the new choreographer got here,” he said as he literally lifted a squawking Bambam off Jackson, “I already have to explain that I’m the leader of a bunch of nutcases but I don’t want to have to explain that I’m the leader of a bunch of violent nutcases.”

But when Jackson stuck out his foot and jabbed Bambam in the ribs, the younger retaliated with a high-pitched war cry, that would have fit perfectly in an old Western movie, before Jaebum dragged him across the studio floor by the hood of his jumper and deposited him at Jinyoung’s feet.

“I renounce custody of this one. You can have him.”

“I’d rather have Youngjae-ah,” Jinyoung replied, flicking Bambam’s ear and grinning at the indignant splutter he received in return.

Youngjae, on the other hand, flung himself into Jinyoung’s lap with an enthusiastic cry of “I love you, hyung!” which had everybody giggling when the door burst open, rebounding loudly off the wall and silencing the laughter.

They all looked up sharply to see the large man that strode in, staring resolutely at a notebook with his bushy eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

He was roughly the same height as Jaebum but his muscles would have put Jackson’s to shame. His jacket strained in protest against the bulge of his biceps and his thighs were about as thick as Mark’s whole body. Although that wasn’t saying much.

When he finally looked up, his expression was one of a man who had no trouble hiding the fact that he would rather be anywhere else.

“Get up!” he barked and they obeyed instantly. This guy gave off an aura of one who should not be trifled with.

“I am Soowon, your substitute choreographer, and I don’t know how my predecessor let you behave but I am here to do one job and that is push you until you are the best that you can be. So I will not be tolerating anything other than total focus, is that understood?”

Youngjae glanced at Jaebum, half expecting him to respond to the rude introduction but Jaebum just bowed in a respectful greeting.

“It’s good to meet you, sir.”

The others followed his lead with similar mumbles of their own and Soowon nodded in what appeared to be satisfaction before two disapproving eyes roved over the group.

“Which one of you is Bambam?”

“I am, sir”

“I understand you’re going to help me with the choreography?”

“Yes, sir.”

Youngjae had already decided he didn’t like this man. He was clearly strict but that wasn’t what made his presence so daunting that Youngjae found the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. It was the way Soowon was looking at them. As though they were dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

Then he lowered those judging eyes to his notebook, letting out a sigh that seemed to bear the message _‘let’s get this over with’._  

“Alright then, let me see the choreo to ‘Look’. And I don’t think I need to convince you boys that I am not easy to impress.”

As he took a seat in the corner of the room, Jaebum gave the others a nod which clearly said _‘just do it’_ and even steered Yugyeom into position before hastening to start the music.

Youngjae put everything he had into the following four minutes, pumping his arms and beaming widely as he mouthed the lyrics but every time he glanced up at Soowon, it was to see scepticism and maybe even a hint of disgust. And his mind may have been playing tricks with his paranoia but he could have sworn the majority of those unimpressed glares were trained on him.

They finished the dance without a single error from anyone and Youngjae rested his hands on his hips to regain his breath as they all turned to their audience, expectantly awaiting their well-deserved praise.

Soowon inhaled deeply, frowned and then returned his gaze to his notebook, a pen scratching over the paper.

“Again.”

So they went again. And again. And again. And after that, they moved onto the next song and went again. And again. And again.

There were half as many breaks as there usually were and each had been sliced in half. The last one had been altogether cut because Youngjae had the audacity to playfully squirt water at Yugyeom.

And with every passing hour, Soowon didn’t utter a word other than “again” or “next song”. He simply sat in his corner, an ugly gargoyle silently watching over them, seemingly serving no purpose other than to unnerve them. 

Youngjae found himself reliving memories of his trainee days. Of the slaps and the workout punishments and the constant verbal abuse. And he prayed that was not the road they were about to travel again.

That was how Youngjae lost his faith in praying.  

 


	3. Too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abuse:  
> 1-800-799-7233 (USA)  
> 08-088-088-088 (UK)

          It wasn’t until it was well past midnight that Soowon finally turned off the music and Youngjae gratefully slid down the wall onto the floor to rest his aching legs. He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror and winced. Thank God the fans never saw them right after practise.

His wet fringe was plastered to his forehead, his cheeks were flushed and segments of his shirt had turned several shades darker from the sweat that had created a thick, stinking sheen over his whole body. All his muscles were tense and screaming and he would have amputated his own hand if it meant that he could have a hot shower and go to bed for the rest of eternity.  

Soowon finished his scribbling with a ferocious stab at the paper and then lumbered to his feet, grimacing at the seven boys slumped on the floor, all in a state of utter exhaustion.

Jackson had removed his shirt and Bambam was sprawled on his back in a way that, if he hadn’t been nodding in answer to Yugyeom’s whispered question of concern, would have made Youngjae wonder if he had passed out.  

“I see that fitness is a problem,” Soowon began and Youngjae barely contained a snort of incredulity.

Had they not just physically exerted themselves to breaking point for the past seven hours? Did he expect them to be doing jumping jacks now? But he held his tongue; for his own sake more than anything else.

“And there are some obvious weak aspects of this group that need to change before I can start helping your dancing ability improve.” He pointed his pen at Yugyeom. “You are on a strict diet from now on. No food after 8pm, no more take-outs and I want you in the gym for at least two hours every day. You need to lose some weight.”

Seven pairs of eyebrows shot up towards their sweaty hairlines. Yugyeom looked like he’d been slapped and Youngjae was worried for a moment that he might start crying; God knows what would happen then. But Yugyeom just nodded and cast his eyes down at his hands.

Youngjae felt a surge of outrage. The maknae was definitely not in need of losing any weight and he cursed himself for being too cowardly to speak up on behalf of his little brother.

Soowon gestured towards Mark, to signal his continuation with his tirade of abuse. “You can join that one …” he jerked his head nonchalantly towards his first victim, “in the gym. You need to gain some muscle. With a body like that, you’re too weak of a dancer.”

And it didn’t stop there. Youngjae watched with an open mouth as Jaebum was told he danced with no emotion, Jackson wasn’t taking his job seriously, Bambam was making too many mistakes and Jinyoung’s dancing needed serious improvement. He never once used their names. He probably didn’t even know what they were. Then Soowon turned his scrutiny on Youngjae.

“To be honest, if I were your manager, I would remove you from this group.”

Silence. Shattering, deafening, excruciating silence.

“W … What?” Youngjae wheezed, the air having been knocked out of him from such a poignant blow after he had barely managed to regain it from the past seven hours’ exertion.

He glanced frantically around him at the others, silently begging them to say something – to defend him – but they were all too dejected from their own verbal battering to do anything but stare miserably at the nearest inanimate object.

“Your dancing is a mess. Your technique is pitiful. You tire much faster than any of the others and I’m going to refer you to a plastic surgeon who I know has a great skill with nose jobs.”

At that, Jaebum’s shoulders stiffened, his whole body going rigid, and Youngjae could sense that things were about to get very ugly. He scooted forwards, ignoring the protest from his sore limbs, so that he could put a restraining hand on his hyung’s shoulder. Almost able to see the muscles in Jaebum’s jaw bulging as he clenched it shut, Youngjae bowed his head respectfully towards Soowon.

“Thank you for your critique,” he said, tightening his grip on his leader when Jaebum looked like he was going to say something. “I’ll show you that I can improve.”

Soowon’s eyes flickered to Jaebum, narrowing ever so slightly at the look of seething rage on the boy’s face, but then he shooed them towards the door.

“Go home and get some rest. Practise starts at 5:30am on the dot. I want to get in a few hours before your photoshoot and I do not appreciate lateness. Bambam, I need a few moments of your time to discuss choreography.”

As the rest of them staggered down to the car, Youngjae wondered how he could have been so happy that morning and feel so utterly miserable now.  


	4. Many

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the shortness.
> 
> Abuse:   
> 1-800-799-7233 (USA)  
> 08-088-088-088 (UK)

           “Remember that it’s only temporary.”

Jinyoung had been the first to speak as they sat in the car outside the studio, shrouded in darkness and all contributing to the distinctly pungent smell of sweat that was quickly accumulating.

“But we don’t know how long …” Yugyeom trailed off, his head pressed against the window, staring miserably at a sparrow pecking at a stale piece of bread on the sidewalk.

As wrapped up as he was in his own self-pity, Youngjae shuffled closer to the youngest and rested his head against the broad shoulder.

“You don’t need to lose weight,” he mumbled softly.

Although he couldn’t see Yugyeom’s face, he could hear the sad smile in his response.

“And you don’t need a nose job.”

They settled into silence. Mark and Jackson had fallen asleep slumped on top of each other in the back, too exhausted from the over exertion to keep their eyes open any longer. Jinyoung was drifting off as well, his head lolling forwards onto his chest, but Jaebum’s eyes were wide open as he sat rigid in his seat. His hand was gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had lost all of their colour. Youngjae wanted to tell him to calm down, that it was okay and he anything Jaebum was thinking of doing was probably going to be a very bad idea, but he was interrupted by the arrival of Bambam.

He thudded into the seat beside Youngjae with the distinct air of someone who had passed the point of exhaustion. He brought his knees up to his chest and nestled into his scarf, hood pulled low over his eyes.

“You good?”

“Let’s just go home,” came the feeble reply from within the folds of material and Jaebum started the engine without another word. 


	5. Silent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abuse:   
> 1-800-799-7233 (USA)  
> 08-088-088-088 (UK)

          Youngjae didn’t think it would be possible but the second practise was even more brutal than the first.

It wasn’t until Mark suddenly stopped halfway through a song, staggered over to the wall and slid down to land with a hard thump on the floor that Soowon allowed them to take their first break. And the majority of that was spent by them sitting around Mark who had his feet on a chair and his head in Jackson’s lap while Jinyoung coaxed him into nibbling on a protein bar.

Mark was only allowed to be excused for thirty minutes before being chivvied back onto the dance floor with the order to “suck it up and be a man”. Needless to say the others kept a wary eye on him for the remainder of the practise, hands itching to reach out and grab him every time he looked like he was going to fall. He didn’t.

Youngjae could have got down on his knees and kissed his manager’s feet when he walked in to take them to their photoshoot. But even as they were all hastily stuffing water bottles and jackets into their bags, Soowon called across the studio.

“Youngjae, stay behind, please.”

“With the greatest respect, hyung-nim, we’re already running behind schedule and the makeup and hair stylists are going to need at least an hour to sort out … this.” The manager gestured vaguely to the seven flushed, sweaty faces in front of him but Soowon just looked over the top of his notebook and raised an eyebrow.

“It’ll only take a minute,” he said coldly and the manager flung his hands up in a resigned signal of surrender as he stormed out of the room. The others each gave Youngjae an apologetic smile before following.

Youngjae turned to glower at the quickest person he had ever decided to hate in his life. Soowon continued to scribble in his beloved notebook, seemingly having forgotten that he had promised the manager he would ‘only take a minute’.

Youngjae cleared his throat pointedly only to receive no response. He tried again, this time louder.

“You really do have to learn to respect your elders,” Soowon snapped, tossing his notebook aside and rising from his chair.

Youngjae resisted the urge to utter a sarcastic retort and instead forced out an apology through gritted teeth.

“You wanted to speak to me?”

“Yes.” Soowon took a breath and then began the longest two minutes of Youngjae’s life.

With every passing sentence, his jaw dropped a little further towards the ground before he finally came to his senses and clamped it shut. But his eyes remained large and saucer-like in disbelief.  

“I have been observing you closely and it is very clear to me that you are drastically inferior to your fellow members. You take twice as long to pick up choreography, your moves are sloppy and lazy, you breathe like a seventy-year-old smoker that has a catastrophic effect on your singing ability which, I might add, is mediocre at best. I haven’t even known you twenty-four hours, Youngjae-ah, but I am almost convinced that the only reason you were permitted to join this group is that your face and the word ‘pretty’ would not sound too unfamiliar in the same sentence. Now, as much as I would love to have you removed for the sake of all, I do not have that authority but I do strongly recommend that you join Yugyeom on his diet and lose that whale blubber I can see bulging out underneath your shirt. Oh, and I’ve booked you a consultation appointment with that plastic surgeon I mentioned yesterday. Thursday, 25th, 2:00pm. Do not miss it. You have no idea how many strings I had to pull to get you to the top of the waiting list. Luckily, he understood that it was an emergency.”

Youngjae gaped at him, frozen to the spot in numb disbelief. Nobody, _nobody,_ had ever spoken to him like that. Had ever criticised his visuals, vocals and physique all in one go.

He tried to reply but his tongue wouldn’t cooperate and he didn’t even know what words he could say in response to such a brutal lecture. He just stood there, opening and shutting his mouth like a goldfish until Soowon turned away from him, waving a dismissive hand towards the door.

“You may go.”

Youngjae didn’t speak for the entire duration of the photoshoot, no matter how many times the others asked him what Soowon had wanted to say.


	6. Sufferers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abuse:   
> 1-800-799-7233 (USA)  
> 08-088-088-088 (UK)

          It wasn’t until he was lying flat on his back under the covers that night did he utter his first words. He didn’t even look over to the Jackson-shaped mound protruding from under the blankets in the bed beside him. He just stared dejectedly at the blank ceiling, trying to imagine what his life would have been like if he’d just gone to law school like his mother had wanted.

“I don’t like Soowon.”

It was a barely audible whisper but Jackson still rolled over to face him, exhausted eyes emerging from behind his sleeping mask.

“What did he say to you?”

“That I’m fat. That I need plastic surgery. That I can’t dance. That my singing is ‘mediocre at best’. That I should be kicked out of the group. Do you want me to go on?”

His chest suddenly tightened and he was surprised to find himself fighting the urge to cry. He rolled over onto his side and buried his face in his duvet, hoping the thick cotton would muffle his hitched breaths. He hadn’t thought he was the type to be reduced to tears after a few harsh words. God knows he’d had plenty of that during his trainee days.

There was a sigh from across the room and it only made his sobbing intensify at the realisation that Jackson was frustrated with his incapability to act like a grown up.

But then the bed creaked under the weight of a new occupant and Youngjae felt reassuring arms wrap around him from behind, a cheek pressing against his shoulder.

“Just go to sleep,” Jackson ordered, his voice laden with fatigue and Youngjae found he was obeying without really realising he was doing so.

Just as the inviting sensation of unconsciousness enveloped him, he heard two words mumbled into his ear that caused the first and only smile of the day to grace his lips.

“You’re perfect.”


	7. Not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abuse:   
> 1-800-799-7233 (USA)  
> 08-088-088-088 (UK)

          When Youngjae woke up the next morning, the mirror revealed his eyes to be puffy and swollen, making it way too obvious that he had cried himself to sleep. He pouted slightly at the absence of Jackson, unable to resist feeling like he’d just woken up to his one-night-stand having played a hit and run.

He pushed himself off the bed and shuffled, zombie-fashion, to the bathroom to lather as much make-up on his face as was medically advisable in a desperate attempt to conceal the remnants of his midnight meltdown.

Finally satisfied with his appearance, he emerged into the kitchen to find his members slumped in their seats, bowing over bowls of cereal and slices of toast. All except for Yugyeom, who was only allowed an apple before lunch, and Bambam, who wasn’t even present.  

“Soowon wanted to go over choreography with him,” Mark replied as Youngjae pointed to Bambam’s empty chair, eyebrow raised questioningly.  

Youngjae nodded and miserably reached for his own apple. He supposed this was going to be his new breakfast regime from now on.

As he proceeded to cut it into carelessly messy slices, Jackson leaned over under the pretence of reaching for the milk so that he could whisper without being detected.

“Better now?”

Youngjae nodded with half a smile that was abruptly wiped away by Jaebum dramatically throwing his spoon down on the table.

“I didn’t want to do this until we were all together but listen up,” he began and everybody fell silent obediently. “I know we don’t like Soowon. I know he’s an asshole and he treats us like shit …”

“Language,” Jinyoung interrupted and Jaebum threw a handful of soggy cereal at him without even breaking his rhythm of speech.

“But as we said the other day, it is only temporary and we dealt with far worse as trainees. So we play along but we do not let him get to us. Understood? You eat when you feel hungry and you go to the gym until your body tells you that you’ve done enough. You do not let his words get to you and Youngjae-ah, if you dare go and see that plastic surgeon, I will slice your nose off myself.”

“I fail to see how that would improve the situation.”

“Shut up, Yugyeom. And if he ever raises a hand to any of you, you tell me immediately and I will have him sacked. Have I made myself clear?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Jackson yelled, leaping to his feet in a mock salute.

Mark snorted with laughter and promptly spouted milk out of his nose which resulted in a cacophony of choking, Yugyeom slapping him on the back and raucous laughter.

Youngjae joined in, his apple suddenly tasting much better now that he wasn’t wallowing in misery. With Jackson’s bedtime message and Jaebum’s passionate address, he felt that maybe he could withstand the daily torture sessions just long enough for Hyungi to return.

He was wrong.


	8. Because

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abuse:   
> 1-800-799-7233 (USA)  
> 08-088-088-088 (UK)

         It took a total of fifteen days for the situation to reach its climax. Fifteen days of rigorous training sessions that saw the fainting of both Yugyeom, who was diligently obeying his diet, and Mark, who had worked himself to breaking point for hours every day at the gym. Fifteen days of being degraded and belittled, of having crisps snatched from their hypoglycaemic grips, of having insults screamed at them until their ears were ringing. Fifteen days of hell that concluded with the long-overdue collapse of Bambam. And by then, the leader’s comforting words had long since been forgotten.  

There had been no warning. No time to catch him. Bambam had just turned to jelly in the middle of the studio and crumpled like a leaf, his head making a sickening thud as it hit the floor.

Youngjae had helped him to sit up, letting him lean against him as his chest rose and fell with painful frequency while Yugyeom fanned him with a folder and Jaebum tried to convince Soowon to let them call an ambulance.

“Bam-ah, take your sweater off. You’re overheating,” Jinyoung said, reaching for the hem of Bambam’s thick jumper. 

“I’ll take him to the hospital,” Soowon barked, shoving Jinyoung roughly aside and hauling the semi-conscious Bambam onto his back as easily as if he were lifting a ragdoll. Ignoring all protests and offers to accompany him, he strode out of the studio with a stony expression.  

He had returned no less than two hours later, firmly stating that Bambam had been sent home to rest and that would be the end of discussion on that topic.

Practise continued without a single break until the clock crept into the early hours of the morning. But just as they were all desperately dragging themselves towards the door, Soowon announced a weigh-in.

Youngjae could hear the barely audible groans from the others and felt am icy flower of dread blossom in the pit of his stomach. He remembered the burger he’d scoffed before they’d arrived at the studio. He had been so hungry and Jinyoung had said he’d deserved it and he thought that it would be alright because one burger couldn’t hurt. Surely not.

He watched the others step onto the scales, each one having lost a good few pounds with the drastic change in the amount of exercise they were being subjected to, and he felt his anxiety growing. He shuffled from foot to foot as one by one, his members received a grunt of satisfaction and were permitted to leave the room. And then it was his turn.

He toed off his converse and felt goosebumps prick his legs with the coolness of the scales on his feet. He looked down at the number and his heart rocketed into his throat.

One burger definitely could hurt.


	9. They

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abuse:   
> 1-800-799-7233 (USA)  
> 08-088-088-088 (UK)

“Hmm.”

Youngjae looked to his superior and saw him scribbling down the offending number in his infamous notebook, eyebrows raised in disapproval. Then he clasped his ham-like hands in front of him and stared at Youngjae with an expression that should have caused the younger to shrivel up and die right there on the spot.

“I thought we had discussed a diet.”

“I’m sorry … I don’t … I have been dieting, I swear!” Youngjae twisted his own fingers so violently that he felt his knuckles popping but his heart was pounding in his throat and Soowon would not stop scrutinising him with that cold, steely gaze.

“Do you honestly expect me to believe that? Jesus, kid, you’re practically begging to get fired.” He turned away, pure disgust evident in the curl of his lip. Youngjae lowered his head, trying not to let his burning tears gate-crash this lecture.

“Wouldn’t be surprised if your mother slept with JYP to get you into this industry.”

Shame and humiliation were crushed under the weight of pure, undiluted, apoplectic rage. How dare this arrogant, entitled piece of shit deface his mother like that? So carelessly. So heartlessly. And the words were leaving his mouth before he had time to stop them.

“Don’t you talk about my mother like that, you dick!”

As soon as they were spoken, Youngjae knew he should have held his tongue but he couldn’t stop his body from trembling with the anger that was coursing through him. It was white hot, his fists clenched at his sides and a vein throbbing at his temple.

Soowon stiffened, shoulders levelling, before he slowly turned around. One eyebrow was raised in incredulity and the expression on his face could only be described as … amusement.

“Say it again,” he taunted, mouth curving upwards at the edges. “I dare you.”

It was a trap. A lethal trap with an irresistible bait.

“I said …” Youngjae’s voice shook with the effort of supressing the urge to strangle the man in front of him. “Don’t you ever talk about my mother, you dick.”

The silence lasted for eternity. Neither of them moved. Neither of them breathed. Neither of them broke eye contact.

And it was at that moment Youngjae realised how badly he’d fucked up.

But then Soowon chuckled, shaking his head and reaching up to rub the back of his neck. It was such an unpredictable reaction that Youngjae’s fury faltered in his surprise.

He had expected Soowon to explode. To burst a blood vessel as he screamed every profanity towards the insolent, disrespectful brat that would grovel before him and beg for forgiveness. This contrast was just unsettling.

“You’ve got spunk, kid,” Soowon said and reached out a hand.

Youngjae flinched, his fight or flight instincts telling him that he was about to receive a slap, and Soowon’s smile only widened as that hand rested on Youngjae’s shoulder instead.

“Easy, there. What did you think I was going to do?”

Was that a rhetorical question?

“Did you think I was going to hit you?”

Youngjae gulped. The truth was on the tip of his tongue and something about this very anti-climactic confrontation was instilling a deep sense of anxiousness within him. Very slowly, he nodded, smiling nervously in an attempt to match the strangely friendly body language he was reading from the man in front of him.  

“Oh.” Soowon bobbed his head, as though deeply considering something. “Like this?”

Youngjae didn’t process the fist flying at him until pain blossomed in his gut with merciless intensity. A grunt escaped his mouth and his legs gave out as the inability to breathe took control.

He knelt there on the studio floor, wheezing, as his senses slowly returned to him and the throbbing agony receded to a dull ache.

Soowon crouched down in front of him, elbows resting lazily on his knees. Youngjae stared resolutely at the floor, too afraid to look up or do anything to elicit another attack.  

“Didn’t I tell you to respect your elders, you brat?”

Youngjae nodded frantically, unable to muster the courage or the breath to reply audibly.

“I trust you’ve learnt your lesson?”

Another desperate nod.

“Then get the fuck out of my sight.”

Youngjae scrambled to his feet, one arm wrapped tightly around his stomach as he stumbled clumsily towards the door. His bag was still sitting in the corner but he really didn’t care as he let his shaking legs carry him on autopilot to the awaiting car in the road.

He didn’t dare speak of the experience as Jaebum drove them home, and everybody was too exhausted to ask him why he had taken so long anyway.   


	10. Don't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abuse:  
> 1-800-799-7233 (USA)  
> 08-088-088-088 (UK)

         Youngjae awoke the next morning to a paralysing stiffness encasing his entire torso. With a groan of discomfort, he rolled clumsily off his bed and slouched into the bathroom. Bracing himself with one hand on the rim of the sink, he glowered at the bags under his eyes in the mirror and pulled up his shirt.

There was a beautifully purple splodge blooming on his lower right quadrant. He touched it gingerly and withdrew with a hiss of pain.

Jaebum’s words echoed through his head.

_If he lays a hand on any of you, you tell me immediately._

He allowed a couple of tears to drip shamelessly onto his T-Shirt as he weighed out the pros and cons of a confession.

Still undecided but overcome with the pangs of hunger, he emerged from the bathroom and only then did he notice that there was a note on Jackson’s bed. Intrigued, he picked it up and the untidy scrawl projected a wide smile onto his face.

"We've got the day off so Bam can recover. We're going to the pool."

Pain and trauma a distant memory, Youngjae practically bounced into the kitchen to find Yugyeom and Bambam throwing blueberries into each other’s mouths from across the table.

“You look magically cured.” Youngjae ruffled Bambam’s hair and received a dazzling grin in return.

“Slep’ like a log,” came the muffled reply from behind a particularly large blueberry. “Feel great.”

“But he won’t come to the pool,” Yugyeom whined, throwing another fruity missile without Bambam’s full attention and smirking in satisfaction when it bounced off his nose. “The others are down there already.”

“I told you I have to catch up on what I missed!” Bambam returned the fire with an indignant squawk.

“Hyung, please tell Bam that the whole reason we have the day off is so that he can relax. And that this is not appropriate weather to be making a fashion statement.” He gestured accusingly at Bambam’s cashmere sweater and received an exasperated eye-roll in return.

“Go choke. Fashion trumps all.”

Sensing that this was about to escalate into a full-blown debate complete with a concluding wrestling match and a smashed vase or two, Youngjae interjected.

“Yugyeom, go to the pool.” He gripped the youngest by the collar of his shirt and hauled him out of his chair, thrusting his swimming kit into his arms and giving him a kick up the backside to start him towards the door. “I’ll grab my stuff and be down in a minute.”

He watched as Yugyeom gave Bambam a final glare – that was reciprocated by a very provocative gesture – and skulked out of the room.

Youngjae looked down at his dongsaeng, preparing to tell him to take off his ridiculous jumper, when he noticed Bambam’s face. Now that he didn’t have his signature smile plastered across it, it was clear to see that he had lost weight. His cheeks were sunken, his eyes were rimmed with dark crescents and his skin was sallow and sickly-looking.

“Bam-ah?” He pulled out the chair next to Bambam and sat down, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Are you alright?”

A switch seemed to flip in Bambam’s head and suddenly he was beaming again, wedging a blueberry between his lips and sucking so that it flew backwards into his mouth like a vacuum. “Yeah, hyung! Why?”

“You look so thin. Has Soowon been making you diet too?”

Bambam let out a snort of laughter and hoovered up another blueberry.

“Even he couldn’t keep me away from food.” But at the sight of his hyung’s unconvinced gaze, he added, “The doctor says I’ve been overworking myself and I just need some more sleep.”

Youngjae watched the runt playing with his beloved berries and suddenly the words were flowing from his mouth with a blatant disregard for his mind’s consent.

“He hit me.”


	11. Yearn

           Youngjae didn’t look at anything except the table. He was probably more shocked at his sudden confession than Bambam was. But once he started, he found it was far easier to keep going.

“Last night. I gained weight after I ate that burger and he found out and then he went mouthing off about my mother and I got angry and then he just …” He let his flustered garble trail away and looked up to see two very wide eyes staring at him, unblinkingly, a blueberry halfway to an open mouth.

“He hit _you_?”

Youngjae frowned. The last word in that sentence wouldn’t have been the one that he would enunciate.

He cautiously lifted his shirt to display the increasingly darkening stain on his skin and he could literally see Bambam swallowing down the bile in his mouth as his already-white face drained of the last of its colour.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Bam-ah. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He dropped his shirt quickly. “You don’t have to worry. I’m fine and I’ll tell Jaebum-hyung as soon as we get back from the pool and …”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Why not? He hit me, Bam-ah. I just showed you the bruise.”

“It’s only a little one, though.”

Youngjae stared in stunned incredulity. He had just revealed that their choreographer was physically abusing him and _that’s_ what Bambam’s response was?

He felt the anger bubbling upwards. Who was this kid to say that it was only a little bruise? It was still a bruise and anyone who left one on somebody should be reprimanded. And it had fucking hurt.

“I mean …” Bambam hastened to add as he saw Youngjae’s eyes beginning to narrow. “I don’t mean that it isn’t wrong or anything but I don’t think there’s any need to cause a fuss over something we’ve got through before, right? We just have to do as we’re told and try not to upset him and …”

“Upset him?” Youngjae’s chair toppled over with a clatter as he leapt to his feet. He would have laughed at the way Bambam let out a little shriek but he was too furious to even think straight. “He insulted my mother, you brat! And what do you know? You weren’t the human punching bag last night, were you? No! I was! And then I come and confide in you because I thought we were friends and what do you have to say? ‘Don’t make a fuss’? ‘It’s only a little bruise’? Who the fuck do you think you are, Bambam?”

He ran his hands through his hair, trying to calm his breathing and lower his heartrate. He spotted his swimming kit already laid out for him behind Bambam and reached for it.

He wasn’t prepared for the flinch that his simple movement elicited. Bambam literally brought his hands up in an instinctive defensive stance.

And Youngjae laughed. He didn’t know why when the terror in his little brother’s eyes was most certainly not funny but he just snorted with contemptuous mirth, swung his bag onto his shoulder and started towards the exit.

“I’m going swimming,” he spat over his shoulder and made a point of slamming the door as hard as he could on the way out.


	12. To

           Youngjae rummaged through his bag on the way down the path to the garden pool. Only when he’d reached the gate did he realise his towel was still on Yugyeom’s bed from when they’d tried to spray die the maknae’s hair bubblegum pink. Uttering a string of choice swearwords that would give Jinyoung a fit, he stormed back inside, temper still sizzling dangerously just beneath the surface.

Bambam was no longer sitting at the kitchen table which probably meant he was in his room … with the towel.

Youngjae pondered whether or not he wanted to initiate another interaction between the two of them so soon after his explosion but the promise of cool water massaging his overheated body triumphed over his pride. He banged on the door, probably more violently than he should have.

“Bambam, I left my towel on Gyeom-ah’s bed.”

“Wait a second!” came the panicked reply from inside and Youngjae scoffed. Why Bambam was being so coy now he didn’t understand. Especially seeing as Jackson insisted on walking around the house naked every other Thursday. Shaking his head, he pushed open the door and strode in.

“It’s not like I haven’t seen it all …”

“Hyung, what the fuck? I said to wait!”

Bambam pulled his jumper over his exposed body, clearly flustered

But it was too late.

Youngjae had seen them.

He had seen the flash of blacks and purples blended together like a watercolour painting of trauma.  

And then it all made sense.

 

The choreography meetings that had seemed to be way too frequent and too long.

The long-sleeved sweaters in the sweltering heat to hide every inch of skin.

The refusal to go to the pool where his body would be clearly on display.  

The peculiar reaction when Youngjae had told him about his own experiences

The determination not to report it.

The weight loss and the fatigue.

The collapse.

Soowon’s refusal to let anybody else take him to the hospital if that was even where they went.

The flinch when Youngjae had reached for the bag.

 

And he realised that he was singularly the most terrible person on the planet.

 

“Bam … Oh my God.”

“It’s nothing,” Bambam snapped, flopping down on his bed and pulling his knees up to his chest, protectively wrapping his arms around himself. “I fell really hard when I fainted yesterday.”

“He did it, didn’t he?” Youngjae couldn’t raise his voice above a whisper.

He was mortified. How could he have been so selfish? So wrapped up in playing the victim that he hadn’t seen what was going on right in front of him?

Bambam had seemed content and happy – stressed, of course, but they all were – and he had hid it so well. They had both hidden it so well. There wasn’t a single blemish on his face or anywhere that couldn’t be easily concealed from suspicious eyes. And Bambam had seemed to be the one, if there was one at all, that Soowon favoured. The thought made him sick.  

“No, hyung! I told you, I fell! You saw me!”

“Bam-ah, I’m going to get the hyungs, okay? We can look after you now and …”

“No!” Bambam cried, leaping off the bed and grabbing hold of Youngjae’s hands, his eyes so desperate that it broke his hyung’s heart. “You’ve got it wrong, hyung. Please. It’s not what you think. I swear!”

Youngjae pried Bambam’s fingers off his wrist and gently guided him back onto the bed.

“It’s gonna be okay, Bam-ah. I promise that he’s never going to touch you again.”

But the words that were intended to bring comfort only instilled further panic.

“Please, hyung …” Bambam was sobbing now, tears rolling down his cheeks and snot beading under his nose. “Please …”

“Just stay here,” Youngjae soothed. “I’ll be right back.”


	13. Reach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING  
> TRIGGER WARNING  
> TRIGGER WARNING

          He left Bambam wailing and rocking back and forth on his bed, quietly closing the door behind him. But as soon as he was out of earshot, he broke into a sprint.

The guilt was overwhelming. It was drowning him. He was a terrible hyung. He was a terrible friend. He was a terrible human. He deserved to be the one beaten to holy hell and curled up in hysterics right now. Not Bambam. Never Bambam.

He heard the shrieks of delight and the loud splashes before he rounded the corner and skidded to a stop, having to grab the wall when his feet slipped on the wet ground.

“Watch it!” Jinyoung warned from his spot beside Jaebum on the deckchairs. Then he saw Youngjae’s face. “What’s wrong?”

At the sudden change of tone, Jaebum looked up from his lyric book, pulling off his sun glasses. Youngjae stood there, shaking and stuttering until he finally formed the only words he could manage.  

“Come … please.”

They were already throwing aside their books at the first word so he turned on his heel and raced back to the house with the older two right behind him, ignoring the confused cries from the others in the water.

They burst into the maknae’s room, sweating and out of breath from the impromptu dash through the heat. The bed was empty but the crying was filtering through the closed bathroom door. Youngjae fumbled with the handle but it simply rattled in refusal.

“Bam-ah, please open the door,” he begged, his heart wrenching when there was a particularly loud sob from within. He opened his mouth to try again but Jaebum shoved him aside.

The leader braced his hands on either side of the door frame and forcefully planted his foot right in the centre. It crashed open, the lock snapping off the wall and the wood splintering beneath the flipflops.

Youngjae got a brief glimpse of Bambam inside before all hell broke loose.

Bambam whose face was bright red from the effort of choking out all those tears.

Bambam who had finally removed that ridiculous jumper to reveal the extent of the bruises that were emerging from underneath his short sleeves: a handprint-pattern of colour on his flimsy arms.

Bambam who was frantically trying to unscrew the cap off the bleach.


	14. Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING  
> TRIGGER WARNING  
> TRIGGER WARNING

          “NO!” Jaebum yelled, lunging forwards just as Bambam raised the opened bottle to his mouth.

The two of them collided, causing the corrosive contents to slosh all over Bambam’s hands before Jaebum hurled it across the bathroom.

Bambam let out a scream that tore Youngjae apart from the inside out. He watched with tears cascading down his face as Jinyoung broke out of his stupor and staggered forwards to help restrain the kid from retrieving his weapon.

Bambam fought them tooth and nail, socked feet slipping on the tiles, hands scrabbling desperately at the arms that were holding him back.

Despite the flailing limbs, the burns were already visible. The skin on Bambam’s hands and wrists was gone, replaced by swollen, pink welts, so raw that they seemed to glisten in the cheap bathroom light.

And all the while, he kept up a steady flow of hysterical cries.

“Please! He’s gonna kill me anyway! He’s gonna kill me anyway! He’s gonna kill me! Please!”

Jaebum wrapped his arms around Bambam’s chest and dragged him, literally kicking and screaming, into the bedroom, away from the bleach that was steadily oozing across the tiled floor from where the dropped bottle lay.

Once he was no longer within reach of imminent death, Bambam’s hysteria reduced to loud sobs and he curled into himself as Jinyoung took him in his arms, gently rocking him back and forth and whispering words of comfort into his ear.

It was uncertain whether or not Bambam could hear them over the sound of his own hyperventilating.

Youngjae backed up against the wall, tears trickling over the hand that was pressed to his mouth as he slid down to the floor. He tried to scrunch himself up into as tiny a ball as possible. He couldn’t listen to the sobbing anymore. He couldn’t handle the guilt. He just wanted to disappear forever. 

He heard footsteps and a door banging open and disembodied voices that sounded too muffled for him to pinpoint their owners.

He was part of the wall, just an ugly ornament that should have been thrown out years ago but was spared due to sentimentality alone. No one looked at him. No one wanted him. Soowon had been right. He was useless. 

“Holy shit.”

“What’s happening?”

“Just let me die!”

“Hyung, call an ambulance!”

“Bam, look at me!”

“Please just let me die!”

“Yes, my friend tried to drink bleach!”

“I wanna die!”

And in that moment, Youngjae did too.


	15. But

          “It’s okay now, Youngjae-ah. You can get up.”

Youngjae finally opened his eyes and lifted his head from his arms. The screaming had stopped. He blinked, trying to adjust to the light.

Mark’s smiling face was in front of his. It was such a bizarre sight in such a traumatic location but it still spread warmth in the icy pit at the bottom of his stomach.

Jackson and Yugyeom were sitting on one of the beds. The hyung had his arm around the maknae and their heads rested together as they stared at the wall in blank silence. 

Jaebum, Jinyoung and Bambam were nowhere to be seen.

“Where …?” he croaked but Mark interrupted him.

“They’ve gone to the hospital. It’s okay!” he cried when Youngjae’s eyes widened. “Everyone’s okay. They just needed to treat the burns on Bam’s hands and make sure he’s looked after.” 

Youngjae nodded weakly. Every last ounce of energy was drained.

He was a failure. He was a monster. Not only had he been so heartlessly cruel to someone who was suffering so badly but he had then left that someone alone and the result was very nearly catastrophic. What would have happened if Bambam’s hands hadn’t been shaking so much? Would they have broken the door down to find him convulsing on the floor and choking up his own oesophagus? Or would they have had to call the coroners rather than the paramedics?

He could distantly hear the phone ringing but it was silenced almost immediately and he was too deep in his own mind to even care.

That was until Mark was pulling him to his feet.

“Come on, Jae-ah. Jinyoung called and we can go and see Bam.”

Youngjae recoiled from his hyung’s comforting touch, shaking his head. “He won’t want me there.”

“Don’t be stupid. We’re all going for Bam.” Mark’s tone stated clearly that there was not another option.

The only thing Youngjae could think of as they climbed into the cab was that Bambam probably hated his guts and the first thing he would do when he saw him was to expose his sins for everyone to hear.


	16. Because

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MILD TRIGGER WARNING

             Jaebum was pacing the hospital corridor when they arrived on the private ward. He raised his hands at the quick-fire questions that were volleyed at him and waited until they were all silent before he spoke.

“I’ve called Manager-hyung and Soowon’s lucky if there isn’t a warrant for his arrest by tomorrow morning. As for Bam … physically, he’s fine. They treated the burns and gave him some pain meds so he’s not feeling a thing. He is quite drastically underweight but they’ve put that down to the stress and the schedule preventing him from getting a proper meal and they’re in the process of writing him a prescription for sleep medication.”

He paused and then sighed. The worst part was coming now.

“They need to keep him under constant supervision for forty-eight hours. It’s standard protocol with …”

_Suicide attempts?_ Youngjae shuddered as the forbidden taboo trespassed in his thoughts.

“…Situations like these,” Jaebum continued, inhaling deeply as though steeling himself for the next few sentences. “And from what they can see, he’s been beaten up pretty bad … more than once. He has a couple of cracked ribs and some minor internal bleeding that should heal on its own but he wouldn’t let the doctor give him a full check-up so there might be some things we still don’t know.”

Everybody was staring at the floor, refusing to look up to see the shame on each other’s faces. They were all guilty of the same negligence. Each one of them had added a body to the weight they would carry on their shoulders for the rest of their lives.

“But he’s acting like nothing’s happened. The doctors don’t know whether he’s in shock or denial or if he’s just trying to block it all out but just treat him like it was any other day and don’t mention anything unless he brings it up. He’ll talk when he’s ready. Understood?”

They all nodded and Jaebum smiled reassuringly before he opened the hospital room door.


	17. They've

          Youngjae didn’t know what he was expecting when they walked in but it certainly wasn’t to hear laughter.

Bambam was sitting up in bed wearing a hospital gown and Jaebum’s jacket to hide the discolouration of his arms. Both of his hands were wrapped so thickly in bandages that he couldn’t even distinguish between his fingers, let alone bend them.

This seemed to be the source of the comedy as Jinyoung was sitting on the edge of the bed with a bowl of rice in his hands, watching Bambam trying to scoop it into his mouth by gripping the spoon between his wrists. Needless to say his face was smeared with soy sauce and individual grains of rice had created a stationary avalanche down his front.  

Jinyoung’s hysteria only intensified when Bambam threw the spoon down and just buried his face in the bowl.

“Oh my God, stop! I raised you better than that!”

Bambam’s head shot up and Jinyoung leapt off the bed with a cry of horror as he received a projectile jet of half-chewed rice in his face. The rest of the bowl toppled over onto the blankets, soaking them with gloopy stock which only fuelled the giggling fit.

Jaebum marched over, scooped up a chunk of the wasted food and lathered it across Bambam’s face as the bandaged hands swatted at him in futile protest.

“That’s for the nurses who now have to come and clean you up,” he scolded but he was grinning as he wiped his greasy hand on the soiled bed linen.  

Youngjae felt like he was watching a cheesy sitcom. He couldn’t understand how three people could be acting so normally when just hours previously, they had felt nothing but pain, fear and panic.

He hung back, shuffling from one foot to the other as Mark, Yugyeom and Jackson joined in the banter, the memories of that morning seemingly vanished as though someone had erased them from existence.

Jaebum looked up from across the room and jerked his head towards Bambam, giving Youngjae a glare that roughly translated as: _Get your ass over here right now._ He obliged obediently but his smile was clearly the fakest and his laugh was clearly the most forced and he couldn’t even look Bambam in the eye.

It was a long time later, once Bambam had given up on trying to play _Subway Surf_ with his marshmallow hands – a nickname Jackson had lovingly given them – that Jaebum ordered the others to say their goodbyes.  

Yugyeom whined and protested until Mark and Jackson took one of his arms each and marched him out the room with the mantra of “Hup! Two! Three! Four!”

Just as the others were about to follow, Bambam reached out and took Jinyoung’s hand.

“Hyung? Can you stay?” he asked quietly, as though he were ashamed, a dramatic contrast to his excited cackling a few moments previously.

“Yeah, course I can, Bam.” Jinyoung ruffled his hair and sat back down on the now-rice-free bed.

Then Bambam turned his imploring eyes on Youngjae.

“You too, hyung?”

Youngjae balked. Bambam wanted him? _Him?_ After everything he’d done?

“I …” he stuttered.

“Please.”

Youngjae looked to Jaebum, not sure whether he was asking for permission or assistance.

“I can bring you some clothes tomorrow and there’s a bathroom just through there where you can shower,” was the leader’s reply and Youngjae realised he wasn’t being given a choice. Whatever Bambam wanted, Bambam would get.

“Okay,” he conceded and Bambam smiled gratefully.

“I’ll be back first thing tomorrow.” Jaebum stooped down and, to everyone’s surprise, kissed the top of Bambam’s head before he left.


	18. Tried

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING   
> TRIGGER WARNING   
> TRIGGER WARNING   
> TRIGGER WARNING   
> TRIGGER WARNING  
> TRIGGER WARNING

          No sooner had the door swung shut than Bambam pulled Youngjae into the bed with him, burying his face in his hyung’s sweater despite the scratchy fabric tickling his nose.

“I’m so sorry for what I said earlier, Youngjae-hyung,” he murmured.

Youngjae stiffened. He was adamantly certain that the roles should be reversed in this conversation.

“I’m sorry he hurt you and I’m sorry I dismissed it so rudely. It was really brave of you to tell me.”

Ignoring Jinyoung’s confused look at his lack of background information, Youngjae brought his hands up to stroke Bambam’s hair.

“I’m the one who should be sorry, Bam,” he whispered into the greasy mop. He absently wondered if Bambam hadn’t been showering because of the bruises. “I was so absorbed in myself that I didn’t see that bastard was torturing you.”

He felt the body in his arms tremble and the shallow intake of breath that followed confirmed his suspicions that Bambam had started crying. Youngjae tightened his grip while Jinyoung put a hand on the youngest’s shoulder, tactfully remaining silent throughout the heartfelt exchange of apologies.

“He said that I was too weak.”

_Deep breath,_ Youngjae thought. _Deep breath, count to ten, stay calm._ If Bambam was about to tell his story, he knew that it was going to take all of his willpower not to track Soowon down and kill him with his bare hands.

“He said that he was toughening me up to survive in an industry where prissy pretty boys like me were only used for their bodies before they were tossed in the trash.”

He sniffled and wiped his nose on his bandages before he continued.

“It started off as just verbal stuff, you know? All the crap he does in the training sessions but when we were alone, it got really personal. He insulted my parents, my brother and sister, you guys … He didn’t start using his fists until I tried to fight back. He knew what he was doing too. He only ever hit in places that wouldn’t bruise his knuckles or make me limp or anything too obvious like that.

It was only really when I talked back to him or disrespected him but when I stopped doing that, he just started slapping me around for fun. Sometimes he was drunk. Most of the time he was just short-tempered and angry.

I heard him talking on the phone and I think his wife’s filed a restraining order against him so he said he was taking it all out on me because I was the closest thing to a weak, pathetic girl and … and that he had … needs.

I wanted to tell someone. Every time I was alone with one of you guys, I knew I should have said something but … I don’t know, I was just scared that he’d find out. I was scared he’d hurt me even worse or that he’d hurt one of you and I felt so humiliated and I swear I didn’t want to die … not really. I was just so scared and I … I just couldn’t …”

He broke off as his sentences were dismembered by uncontrollably shallow breaths. He squeezed Jinyoung’s hand and burrowed further into Youngjae’s embrace, his skinny body wracked with sobs.

They sat there in silence, giving him this much-needed time to cry it out and eventually, finally feeling safe in his hyung’s arms, his hysteria died down to the occasional hiccup.


	19. And

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really had to debate long and hard about whether or not to use this chapter but I decided I would because as awful as it is, it happens way too often in way too many households. So needless to say: ABSOLUTELY COLOSSAL TRIGGER WARNING

            It was a good twenty or so minutes before Jinyoung spoke up.

He was taking deliberately slow breaths and refused to look at anything except his fingers that were intertwined with his little brother’s.

“Bam …” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat before retrying. “Bam. They’re going to ask you this question but I want you to hear it from me first, okay?”

Youngjae felt Bambam’s muscles tensing.

“Did he ever …” Another forcefully calm breath. This must be torturous for him but Youngjae understood that he had to do it. Rather him than a complete stranger with a clipboard and direct access to a psych ward. “…make you do anything that you didn’t want to do?”

There was no reply. From the position they were lying in, Youngjae could tell that Bambam was holding his breath.

“Bam …” Jinyoung tried again and the temptation to cry was audible in the way his voice shook. “Did he rape you?”

He had his eyes screwed tightly shut, his lips moving silently and Youngjae could just about distinguish the word “please” being mouthed over and over and over again.

There was a sharp intake of breath from the skinny bundle in the bed before Bambam pulled his knees up to his chest under the blankets. He pressed his tear-soaked face into Youngjae’s body and the hyung could feel the moisture seeping through the material. He scooted closer so that Bambam’s head could rest against his chest and he just held him. That was all he could do. Just hold him.

Jinyoung’s breaths shook with the tears that finally escaped his lids. He lay down on Bambam’s other side, wrapping his arms around him from behind and they cried together, two bodies trembling in their shared grief.

Youngjae felt numb. His world had just crashed down right around him. He wanted to scream. To pound his fists against the wall and bellow all the blasphemous profanities up at whatever God had allowed this to happen.

He wanted to cry until he had filled an ocean with his tears and offer it up as a sacrifice for the return of Bambam’s innocence. For his ability to be a kid again.

He wanted to take the unimaginable burden from his dongsaeng’s shoulders and carry it up the mountain himself.

He wanted to be the one in that hospital bed with the skin chemically scalded off his hands and his body tarnished with bruises and his head filled with horrific memories that would haunt him until his dying days.

But he could do none of those things. So he pressed his lips to Bambam’s ear, intent on only letting his baby brother receive his message.

“Never again, Bam-ah. Never again.”

And that was how they remained, Bambam’s words lingering in their minds even after sleep claimed them.

_He said I was the closest thing to a weak, pathetic girl and … and that he had … needs._

And the kind of images their brains cooked up were the objects of their nightmares.

 


	20. Found

            Youngjae woke with a numbness in his arms and a painful knot in the nape of his neck. But when Bambam looked up at him with eyes swollen from pre-sleep tears and smiled weakly, he really didn’t care.

Jaebum arrived shortly afterwards with a fresh change of clothes for both Youngjae and Jinyoung before heading downstairs to get them each a coffee.

Thankful for the opportunity to work the stiffness from his joints, Youngjae leapt into the shower, sighing with satisfaction as the hot water soothed his aching body. He scrubbed himself with the hospital soap until his skin reeked of coconut.

He inspected the bruise on his stomach that had faded to a grimy yellow and felt a fresh surge of guilt at the way he had complained and wallowed in his own self-pity when Bambam had been stained with so, so much more.  

The realisation struck him that today was the day he was supposed to have his consult with the plastic surgeon. Any chance of that happening was most certainly gone now.  

As he watched the foamy water circle the drain at his feet, trickling through the grate with a satisfying gurgle, he felt as though Soowon was being washed from his life and being sent far, far away to live out the rest of his miserable days in a stinking cesspit.

The thought made him smirk and he made a mental note to get the others to try his newfound form of therapy.

That was when he heard the crash.

It thundered over the rushing in his ears and his fingers fumbled with the dial until the water finally sputtered to a steady drip. Youngjae was already scrambling out of the shower, the puddle he created almost sending his feet flying out from under him.

On the other side of that door, voices were screaming. It was impossible to make out what they were saying as they merged and overlapped, some moments drowned out all together by heavy thumps and cries of pain.

Youngjae grabbed for his clothes, only bothering with a T-Shirt and boxers before wrestling with the uncooperative door handle. He felt his garments sticking to his skin from the moisture he had neglected to dry from his body and his hair was plastered to his forehead, feeding water droplets into his eyes.

The handle finally gave and he threw open the door, taking in the scene before him with an open mouth and wide eyes.

For the second time in just a few days, he wished he hadn’t left the room.


	21. Nobody

            Jinyoung was sprawled on the floor beside an overturned cabinet, a large gash just above his eyebrow sourcing a steady stream of scarlet that matched perfectly with the splatter on the bed frame. His chest rose and fell at a reassuring pace but his eyes were closed and he wasn’t moving.

Youngjae slid towards him, wet feet skidding along the polished floor, and crashed clumsily to his knees. He reached for Jinyoung but his hands merely hovered uselessly over his motionless body, unsure what to do or how to help.

A constricted gasp for air had his head whipping around and his blood ran cold.

Soowon was on the ground. He had his back to him but Youngjae could recognise the muscles defined by the tightness of his shirt. He was straddling a body whose face was concealed from view but the stick-like legs that were kicking against the floor in desperation left only one possibility.

Choi Youngjae was not a violent person. Choi Youngjae was a very placid person with a gentle nature and strong sense of morality. But in the moment when he realised Bambam was being strangled by the very person he had been promised would never touch him again, the placid Youngjae receded and the Youngjae who was willing to draw blood took control.

“You son of a bitch!” he roared, launching himself across the room and slamming into Soowon with surprising force – for someone his size – that sent them both rolling over the floor.

In his peripheral vision, he saw Bambam scrambling away from them, choking and spluttering, but he was too focused on the face that made him want to vomit.

He took advantage of Soowon’s shock and threw himself onto the choreographer’s chest, pinning him to the floor while he rained punch after punch after punch down on that face. That sickening face.

His fists were screaming in pain from his inexperienced blows. He felt something wet and sticky on his knuckles and he could see blood on Soowon’s nose but the moral instincts had long since been dominated by vengeful ones.

He was so intent on causing as much damage as possible that he didn’t see the hands reaching out until they were fisted in his shirt. His world inverted as he was rolled onto his back and ten strong fingers closed around his throat.

The sensation of not being able to draw breath as the pressure built up in his head was enough to convince him that his eyes were going to pop right out of his skull. He grasped at the hands and tried to pry them off him but his waning strength had already been drained from his own frontal assault.

His body bucked and twisted in its desperation to survive but his vision was blurring. The only thing he could hear was a distant high-pitched ringing. Like the sound when you’ve been sitting in silence for too long. And black spots were dancing in front of his eyes, beckoning him into their realm of unconsciousness. The last thing he was going to see was that smirking face looming above him.

He had failed. He had failed to protect Bambam. He had broken his promise. And then he had failed to protect Jinyoung too. He didn’t deserve to survive.

So he stopped struggling. He let his arms flop uselessly by his sides and his legs go lax. He closed his eyes and welcomed the awaiting darkness.

The hands released his throat and he felt himself being cradled by strong arms. He smiled, whether outwardly or just inwardly he did not know. His angel had come to take him home.

“Youngjae-ah …” it said as it cupped his face in its warm hands. “Youngjae-ah!”

Youngjae briefly pondered why his angel sounded like Jaebum before he drifted away into oblivion.  


	22. Who

           When he opened his eyes, he just saw white. A white so brilliantly bright that he burrowed into the comforts of darkness again. He didn’t know Heaven’s intentions were to blind you.

After several moments, he carefully peeled his eyelids apart again, blinking rapidly so his vision could adjust.

His head was cushioned on something soft and there was a comforting warmth pressed into his right side. He craned his neck to look down and saw Bambam curled up on the bed beside him. His breathing was slow enough to indicate that he was asleep and his bandaged hands were resting on Youngjae’s stomach.

Youngjae brought his arm up to wrap around his little brother’s shoulders, wondering why his limbs felt so lead-like. He turned his head and saw Yugyeom folded into a chair beside the bed, legs swung leisurely over the arm rest and chin resting on his chest. So this definitely wasn’t Heaven.

As though he sensed he was being watched, the maknae opened his eyes and a grin stretched across his face. Youngjae pressed a finger to his lips and nodded towards Bambam, letting his heavy arm rest back on the bed when Yugyeom nodded his understanding. He leaned closer in his chair so that they could converse in whispers.

“So you’re alive then.”

“Well, I did wonder if I was dead,” Youngjae answered matter-of-factly, “but then I saw your ugly mug and realised I still had the misfortune of sharing this planet with it.”

Yugyeom snorted with laughter, clapping a hand to his mouth as Bambam murmured something in his sleep and shifted his head slightly higher on his human pillow. Youngjae stroked his thumb over the sleeping boy’s shoulder, smiling fondly with the assurance that he was safe.

Then, with the impact of a raging tsunami, the memories came flooding back, dousing him with a chilling panic.

He remembered Jinyoung’s bloodied face and closed eyelids. He remembered Bambam writhing on the floor as the breath was choked out of him. He remembered Soowon’s nose splintering under his fists. He remembered the weight on his chest and the hands around his neck and the eyes that were going to pop out and the dancing black spots and the angel that called his name.   

He remembered everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys!! I know I don't really talk very much in the notes on my stories because I get paranoid and feel like I sound stupid. But my little brother wanted to post a story on my account and I said he could. It's on my page under "Original Works" and it is very gruesome and gory because that's what he likes. So if you're not too squeamish and you wouldn't mind, I would be really grateful if you could pop over and leave a Kudos or even better a comment. Anything to boost his confidence.   
> You have no obligation to do so and if you really couldn't be asked, by all means ignore this.   
> Thank you so much for sticking with me through this story. It really does wonders for my self confidence. Xxx
> 
> Also: I am absolutely loving Jackson and Bambam's music videos and I can't wait for the others!


	23. Cares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drama Recommendation:  
> "Hello, Monster"

         “Soowon …” he choked out breathlessly, looking around in panic as though his attacker were concealed in a shadowy corner, waiting to pounce and finish what he’d started. The only thing that grounded him was Yugyeom’s hand on his arm.

“He’s gone. They arrested him. He’s gone, hyung. It’s an open-and-shut case. Attempted murder, assault and battery, abuse of a minor … You name it. He’s going down for years.”

Youngjae deflated like a balloon, head crashing back against the pillow, grateful for the soft squishiness that massaged his aching scalp.

“What happened?” he whispered.

“No one knows how he got in.” Yugyeom started twisting his fingers together, an anxious tick he’d developed that always had Youngjae worried he was going to break a bone. “He found out that we told the manager he’d been abusing Bam and he …”

He trailed off, burying his face in his hands. “I’m so sorry, hyung. I should have been there.”

Youngjae stretched out to offer comfort but could only reach the maknae’s knee so he rested his hand there, squeezing as hard as he could.

“Keep going,” he prompted gently. He needed to know what had happened. The memories of Jinyoung lying lifeless and bleeding on the floor were starting to drive him insane.

“Jinyoung-hyung tried to protect Bam,” Yugyeom continued, his voice more stable now that he had Youngjae’s skin-ship. “But Soowon slammed his head into the bed frame. He’s okay. Mark-hyung and Jackson-hyung are with him in the room next door. He’s just got a concussion.”

Youngjae let out the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. Jinyoung was okay. Jinyoung was next door. Jackson and Mark were with him. He wasn’t alone. He was safe.

“Bam didn’t want to talk about what happened next.”

Understandable. That kid had been through more than enough before he had almost been asphyxiated. 

“But Jaebum-hyung said he got back from the coffee shop to find Soowon choking you and Bambam trying to get him off.”

Youngjae felt his heart swelling as he tightened his grip on Bambam. He had tried to save him. After all he’d been through, he had tried to save him.

“Jaebum snapped.” Yugyeom chuckled softly, a glorious sound to hear after so much trauma. “He beat the holy shit out of – ”

“Language.”

“Shut up, you’re not Jinyoung-hyung. As I was saying, he beat the holy _fucking_ shit out of that guy and probably would have killed him if security hadn’t pulled him off. He made sure you were alive before he had to go with the police but they said it’s unlikely he’ll get charged with anything because he was protecting you.”

So that’s why the angel had sounded like Jaebum. Youngjae made a mental note to never tell anybody about that little revelation. He would never live it down.

Then Yugyeom’s eyes lit up and his mouth slipped into a sly grin. “Although he said that you’d done a pretty good job yourself.”

Youngjae looked down at the hand resting on Bambam’s shoulder and saw that, indeed, his knuckles were exhibiting an impressive display of purple discolouration. Part of him found it disgusting but the rest of him – the majority of him – was glowing with pride that he had managed to exact a small piece of revenge for his hyung and dongsaeng.  

“Hey, hyung,” Yugyeom whispered, any trace of his quirky smile gone. “You know that he was abusing all of us, right?”

Youngjae’s eyebrows shot up and he had to consciously lower his voice to avoid waking Bambam.

“Who else did he hit?”

“No one, hyung. But overworking us, enforcing the diets, telling us we were fat and needed plastic surgery? Mark-hyung said that was just as abusive as what was happening to Bam but it was just … different.”

Youngjae nodded vacantly, rubbing his thumb backwards and forwards over Bambam’s shoulder. He knew Mark had been right but at the same time, he couldn’t imagine ever comparing their experiences with Bambam’s. They hadn’t even come close to knowing what kind of hell …

He didn’t want to think about it any longer. He didn’t want Yugyeom’s usually glowing face to be contaminated with such a pained expression.  

“Did the doctors say when I can leave?” he asked.

Yugyeom sighed and leaned back in his chair, shaking his head as though his current thoughts were just too terrible to comprehend.

“They gave you a scan, just to check your brain wasn’t damaged because of the oxygen deprivation. And I’m so sorry, hyung … But they couldn’t find one.”

He pulled his leg back with a yelp as Youngjae dug his fingernails into the skin of his knee.

“I’m joking! They said as long as you felt alright, you could be discharged this afternoon. Jinyoung-hyung has to stay until tomorrow and Bam has to … Hey, sleeping beauty.”

Youngjae looked down and saw Bambam pushing himself into a sitting position. He blinked in drowsy confusion before his eyes settled on his hyung’s face.

Youngjae barely had time to register the handprint-shaped bruises on the kid’s neck – that undoubtedly mirrored his own – before he was enveloped in a bear hug that he hadn’t realised he so desperately needed. He rubbed his palm up and down Bambam’s back, laughing at the way his little koala clung to him.

“It’s okay, kiddo. I’m fine.”

“I thought he was going to kill you,” came the muffled reply.

“He’s gone now,” Youngjae soothed, catching Yugyeom’s eye over Bambam’s shoulder to let him know he was talking to the both of them. “He’s never coming back. I promise this time.”

“Never again?” Bambam whispered tentatively, head buried in the crook of Youngjae’s neck and he felt himself smiling properly for the first time in forever.

They were going to be okay. He would get discharged, Jaebum would come back from the station, Jinyoung would be back to fussing over them all in no time and once Bambam was free to go, they would cancel all of their schedules and get him the best therapist in Korea. They were going to be okay.

“Never again.”

 

That afternoon, Jaebum returned without a scratch on his criminal record and they all moved to Jinyoung’s room where Yugyeom was quick to point out that his hyung’s stitches reminded him of Scar from _The Lion King._

As Youngjae was laughing at the impromptu – and disastrously off-key – performance of ‘The Circle Of Life’ that followed, his eyes rested on Bambam who was seated comfortably on Jackson’s lap, the elder’s arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

There were tears in his eyes but he was smiling brighter than he had in weeks, looking around at his hyungs and maknae with an expression of pure adoration.

The words that he whispered went unheard, masked by the screeching high note Mark felt the unappreciated need to attempt, but Youngjae read the movements of his lips. And it made his heart soften.  

_Never again._

 

There Are Too Many Silent Sufferers, Not Because They Don’t Yearn To Reach Out But Because They’ve Tried And Found Nobody Who Cares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all: thank you for making it to the end of my story and for all of you who left comments and Kudos, it really made my day to see them.  
> Second of all: Youngjae's music video is gorgeous and anyone who says otherwise can go eat a raw octopus  
> Last of all: Keep an eye on your friends and family. Sometimes you don't know someone's hurting until it's too late. And if you're the one who's hurting, it's not going to change until you tell someone about it.

**Author's Note:**

> Abuse: 1-800-799-7233 (USA)  
> 08-088-088-088 (UK)


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